


Circumstances Make The Man

by Anna_Blossom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Lots of it, Vishkar - Freeform, Vishkar!Hanzo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:58:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Blossom/pseuds/Anna_Blossom
Summary: “So, Mr. Shimada,” Sanjay beams at him, clasping his hands on the table, “I take it that you being here indicates interest in our offer. Vishkar could really benefit from having you as one of our agents.”A cold stare and a sneer. “You seem to be confused about what I am interested in.”(Vishkar!Hanzo AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know the feeling when you can't write about anything else until you get that one idea out of your system? Yeah. Behold the reason why I can't write anything else at the moment! Enjoy!

Something is wrong.

Dark eyes narrow in suspicion. Even after the Shimada Empire had fallen, brought down to its knees by no other than Overwatch, there were still some who remained to defend the compound, either bound by honor or forced by contract. Once upon a time, Hanzo recognized all of them, talked to them, knew them personally. He may have forgotten much over all that has happened in the past eight years, but he still recognizes most of his family’s staff, by face if not by name.

Now, however, he sees no familiar faces among the guard. He quickly scans those who he can see from where he remained crouched on one of the cherry blossoms found across the compound, hidden by branches and shadows. None of them he recognized.

Silently dropping onto a lower branch for a better look, he observes one of them. Their posture is military, but their outfit is corporate. The stranger turns around, hand pressing on something against his ear and speaks. The stranger is a man. His English is faintly accented. Indian? A glint of chrome underneath moonlight, and Hanzo spies a mechanical left hand, possibly arm. Even from what little he could see, the design is sleek, distinctive.

He clenches his jaw. Vishkar. He has no doubt that they are here for him. Figuring out how they knew he’d be here is easy. It is no secret that he comes here every year on the same day for the same reason. The only question is if they are here to capture him, or kill him.

He steels himself, eyes narrowed and his dragons rumbling underneath his skin. He’s dealt with numerous parties who’ve tried to do one or both. He will _not_ be deterred.

\--

Dispatching the guards was not easy, but neither was it too difficult. Vishkar may be one of the leading companies when it comes to weaponized tech, but technology is only useful so long as you get the chance to use it. Hanzo makes sure not to give them that chance, swiftly and efficiently taking them out with the deadly precision of a predator hunting down prey.

Within half an hour, all guards are either dead or unconscious, and Hanzo yanks an arrow from where it pierced his last victim’s back. He carefully inspects it, before putting it away in his quiver. That should be the last of them. As he’s walking away, he hears a beeping noise.

He looks back, and he sees a blue light glowing through the dead agent’s back pocket. Hanzo silently considers it for a moment, before walking back to the man and gathering the item. It turns out to be a slim phone, sleek in design with Vishkar’s logo on the back, its screen illuminating his face with pale blue light.

_Incoming call…_

He does not answer it, and the small beeping noise goes on for a few more seconds before stopping, going to voice mail. The sudden silence unnerves him, and he waits for whoever called to leave a message. A low chuckle reaches his ears, and he tenses at the sound.

_“I know you are there, Hanzo Shimada. And I know what you are here for.”_

And just as suddenly as the message started, it ends. Hanzo sneers at the phone before crushing it underneath his heel. The caller, whoever he or she is, was clearly making a power play, trying to present themself as someone more powerful than him. It’s a shame Hanzo could not care less.

He walks through the moonlit courtyard, footfalls not making a sound as he approaches the dojo, stopping just in front of its looming entrance.

He’s always hated this room. The dojo may have held some of his best memories— mastering the sword, sparring with his brother— but it held most of his worst.

Twelve years ago, his father collapsed during their weekly spar, coughing up blood and staining the mats red.

Two years pass, a servant interrupts him during his morning training, face grim. By noon, his father is dead. The next day, Hanzo is pronounced as the new head of the Shimada Empire. On the same day, he is told that his brother is a liability.

A year later, he corners Genji in the dojo. The clan has been pressuring him. _Control your brother_. He tries everything he could— asking, bribing, threatening— the last one makes Genji lash out. Hackles raised, Hanzo responds in kind. Both of their words are sharp, vicious, knowing exactly where to hit the other so that it hurt most.

It is the worst fight he’s ever had with his brother.

It is also the last.

He remembers Genji, coughing up blood and staining the mats red just like their father, except their father wasn’t covered in deep cuts and bleeding wounds, eyes that once looked up at Hanzo with adoration are filled with fear instead and _please, Hanzo, don’t do this—_

He stops himself, eyes snapping shut. Slowly, Hanzo lets out a breath and looks back up. Now is not the time to dwell on the past. He has time for that later. For now, he must deal with Vishkar. He enters the dojo, bow at the ready, arrow nocked.

There, sitting on a stool legs crossed in front of the _shomen_ , is a woman. Her eyes are narrowed as she meets his glare head-on, not batting an eye even as Hanzo aims an arrow right between her eyes.

“Good evening, Mister Hanzo Shimada,” she says smoothly. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Hanzo studies her carefully. She has no visible weaponry on her person, but knowing Vishkar, her left arm prosthetic is probably more than what it looks. No armor either. Back straight, gaze alert, but her outfit is unconventional and her posture is nothing like a soldier’s. She is not military, no, but the manner she holds herself with reminds Hanzo of a panther assessing her prey. She is not the voice on the phone, voice too feminine, but she sounds just as dangerous, that much is sure. In what way, he does not know. Yet.

“What does Vishkar want from me?” he barks out. His eyes flicker around the room, looking for others. There are none.

“Vishkar wants to employ you,” she answers. “You have a very unique skillset, Shimada. One that would greatly benefit us in our goal and—”

Hanzo scoffs, cutting her off with a cold glare. “I am not interested in whatever goal Vishkar has. Money or whatever luxury you can offer, I do not need and whatever threats you make,” he pulls the drawstring just a little further, “I am not afraid of.”

The woman looks irritated at being interrupted, but she smoothes her face over quickly with a small curl of her lip.

“And if we have something better to offer?”

“I’ve told you—”

“ _Your brother.”_

Not a second later, an arrow is imbedded next to the woman’s head, millimeters shy from hitting her, but she does not flinch. In fact, she looks triumphant, her mouth curved into a smug smirk.

Hanzo growls dangerously, a second arrow already nocked in his bow. “That is your only warning. Mention him again and you will—”

“Genji Shimada. Died nine years ago in this exact same spot,” she briefly glances towards the banner behind her, at the bloodstains left on it, “or perhaps I should say ‘murdered’.” Her eyes travel back to meet Hanzo’s, and her smirk turns just the slightest bit cruel. “But you never _did_ find his body, did you?” When she says it, it’s more of a statement than a question.

His dragons are seething underneath his skin, and Hanzo wants nothing more than to release them onto the woman who _dares_ to speak his brother’s name. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lowers his bow, and that just makes her smirk even more, twisting her face in undisguised victory.

“You asked the elders, the servants, the guard,” she continues, standing up from her stool, and he watches it fold into itself before dissipating into thin air. “But not one of them knew what happened. Your brother’s body went _missing_ , Mister Shimada.”

Hanzo grits his teeth as she steps forward until they were face to face, eye to eye. She leans forward, still wearing that smug smirk while he does his best not to forcibly wipe it off her face.

 _“_ And Vishkar knows exactly where it is, who took it, and what they _did_ to it.”

His blood goes cold, his mind reeling at the implications of her statement. Genji was _taken_. Always, questions about what happened to his brother’s body linger at the back of his mind. Was he thrown into the lake or the ocean to ensure he was never found? Did the elders order for it to be burned to ash and lied to him afterwards? Was he just thrown out into the dumpsters for the rats and crows to feed upon? The bitter taste and discomfort those images brought to Hanzo are nothing compared to what he feels now as he processes the woman’s words. Was he taken by the enemy clan, body torn apart and ravaged more than it already was? Or maybe they sold his organs to the black market, profiting off of his corpse. Or maybe they performed experiments, experiments too cruel and inhumane for living subjects that’s why they—

His knuckles go white from how tightly he is gripping his bow, and he forcibly calms himself down, schooling his expression into something unreadable once more. This could all be an elaborate ruse, a lie weaved by Vishkar in order to lure him in, force him to play their game for them.  He should kill the woman before him, leave her body here along with the rest of the others for Vishkar to find, make sure they never bother him again... but what if she is telling the truth?

He focuses his gaze on the woman, who had backed away, giving him space. He searches her face for any trace of deceit. “And how do I know you are not lying?”

 She nods. “You want proof. You want answers.”

She turns around, back towards him and brings up her hands. Then she does a dance, arms flowing gracefully as she wields blue light with her prosthetic. He watches with hidden awe. It is not the first time he’s seen a light architect at work, but it is the first time he’s seen someone treat it as an art. He feels a sudden curiosity and interest towards this woman, and it occurs to Hanzo that he does not even know her name.

Moments later, she is finished with her work, a teleporter placed just in front of the _shomen_. She looks at him over her shoulder, and tilts her head.

“If you want your proof, your answers, then follow me.”

Then she enters the teleporter, leaving him alone.

Hanzo hesitates, his instincts telling him that he shouldn’t do it. _Too risky, no concrete information, how do you know it’s not a trap—_

 His eyes travel to the bloodstains on the banner.

He closes his eyes and takes a breath, steeling himself. He's made his choice. He hopes it is the right one.

He opens his eyes and steps through the teleporter.


	2. Chapter 2

Going through the teleporter is not like anything Hanzo thought it’d be. There is no sudden pulling sensation or nausea. Instead, it feels just like misjudging the height of a downward step, his foot coming down too quickly and nearly sending him to the floor the moment he gets through.

Immediately righting himself, he looks up and sees the woman standing before him looking more than a little amused.

Hanzo scowls at her, looking away. They are in what appears to be a basement garage, walls a pristine white, hovercars parked here and there. There is a set of doors in the far wall, and when the woman starts walking towards them, he follows.

The security guard standing by nods at her, then glances at Hanzo’s quiver and bow warily. She waves dismissively.

“It will not be a problem,” she reassures, casting a sidelong glance at the archer. Hanzo’s lips thin.

The guard nods, stepping aside and allowing them to enter. The doors open automatically and Hanzo follows the woman through them and into a hallway with the same white walls. As they walk, he takes notice of all possible exits and escape routes. He glances up at a security camera, its head following him. Conversation comes through most of the many doors they walk pass, and there are more than a few guards and Vishkar agents loitering around.

Outnumbered and on enemy territory. An annoyed grimace forms on his face. They are still in Japan at least, judging by how many of the agents seemed to speak in his native tongue.

Soon, they stop in front of another door, this one with two guards stationed outside, both of whom bow as they near.

“Vaswani _-sama_ ,” one of the agents greets, and the woman— Vaswani nods in return. The same agent opens the door for them. “Korpal- _sama_ has been expecting you.”

Vaswani smiles politely at the agent. “Thank you.” Then she faces Hanzo. “Do you still want your answers?”

He tilts his chin up, steel in his gaze. “Yes.”

Her smirk is back. She lifts a hand and beckons him to follow as she enters the room. Hanzo does so without hesitation.

* * *

Sanjay Korpal is not a man who would stand out in a crowd. Plain face, standard haircut, average build. Aside from the expensive business suit, there is nothing worth noticing about him. And that unsettles Hanzo.

“Good evening, Mr. Shimada,” Sanjay says from behind his desk, giving him a friendly smile. “Please, have a seat.”

He doesn’t move.

Sanjay’s smile does not go away. Instead, he nods as if in understanding.

“Very well. Satya,” his eyes flicker towards her, and Hanzo does not miss how she straightens her already perfect posture. He almost sneers at it in fact. A dog answering to her master’s call, he thinks.

“You may leave us alone for now.”

Hanzo feels her glance at him one last time, before she does an about-face and leaves the room, door quietly closing behind her.

“So, Mr. Shimada,” Sanjay beams at him, clasping his hands on the table, “I take it that you being here indicates interest in our offer. Vishkar could really benefit from having you as one of our agents.”

A cold stare and a sneer. “You seem to be confused about what I am interested in.”

“Ah, of course.” Sanjay’s smile never falters. In fact, the longer Sanjay smiles, the faker it seems, the more unsettling. A serpent’s smile. “You want information. Or rather, proof that we _have_ information.” One of his hands goes towards a plain white folder on his desk, and pushes it towards the archer. Hanzo considers the folder carefully, before taking it and flipping it open.

**_AUTOPSY REPORT_ **

His grip on the folder tightens, crinkling paper as he reads the text at the top of the page, and a sinking feeling forms at his belly as he reads the rest.

“Japanese male, mid to late twenties. Anatomical summary: multiple incised wounds across the face, chest, and both upper and lower extremities, causing massive blood loss,” Sanjay recites from memory, and Hanzo looks up with grit teeth.

_Blood spilling across the dojo, the scent of it thick and heavy in his nostrils_

“Multiple stab wounds found in the chest and abdominal areas, one of which penetrated into the chest cavity and right lung, causing right hemothorax and hemoperitoneum.”

_Genji’s labored breathing, eyes wide in terror as Hanzo prepares to strike yet again_

“Broken ribs, three on the left and two on the right, along with the fractured left tibia indicate a possible fall.”

_The sickening crack of bone and Genji’s pained scream as he fell from the balcony when he tried to flee_

_His soft footfalls as Hanzo walked towards him, bloodied sword in hand_

_The glint of his blade as he raises it for the final strike—_

“Multiple wounds of upper extremities are consistent with defensive injuries,” Sanjay’s eyes bore into Hanzo’s, “indicating a homicide.”

Hanzo says nothing, turning his gaze back to the report in his hands. Homicide. The word stands out to him like the bloodstain on the dojo’s banner, guilt and shame stewing at the back of his mind. But then another set of words at the bottom of the page catches his attention.

**_APPROVED FOR EXPERIMENTATION_ **

He grits his teeth, holding in a growl. His knuckles turn white, eyes scanning the paper for a name, an organization, _anything_ that could tell him who would _dare_ use Genji’s body for—

“Fascinating.”

Sanjay’s impressed mutter breaks his chain of thought. Only then does Hanzo notice that his tattoo is glowing, blue and ethereal as his dragons threaten to break free, fueled by his rage. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, forcefully dismissing them. Another deep breath, then he opens his eyes to meet Sanjay’s pensive gaze.

“Who took my brother’s body?”

Sanjay hums. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. Unless,” that serpent smile forms on his face again, and Hanzo clenches his jaw, “you decide to work with us.”

His automatic response is to say ‘no’, to tell Vishkar exactly where they could shove their offer of employment.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he holds his tongue because they _know_ what happened to Genji. He’ll be damned if he lets his brother down a second time.

“Of course, I’ll understand if you need some time to think on it, Mr. Shimada.” Sanjay leans back. “You don’t have to give me an answer right away. But, when you _do_ have your answer, use this.” He tosses a small object towards Hanzo, who catches it on reflex.

He inspects the item. It is a simple device shaped like a cube that fit in the palm of his hand, two buttons on its surface. One white, one blue. He runs his thumb on the device curiously.

“That is a signal transmitter. Should you decide to join us, press the blue button, and it will send us a signal with your exact coordinates so that we could come pick you up,” Sanjay explains. “Press the white button, and the device fries its own circuits, and you’ll never hear from us again.”

He turns over the device in his hand, examining it closely. “And how do I know it is not a tracker?” Hanzo asks. “That it is not always sending you my exact location?”

Sanjay chuckles a bit in response. “Vishkar trusts _all_ of its agents to do what they must to make the world a better place. Trust, Mr. Shimada, is the one thing Vishkar emphasizes upon when choosing agents.” His lips pull into a smile, eyes squinting, head tilted sideways, and Hanzo gets the feeling that ‘trust’ is just another term for ‘obedience’. “If you do not trust us, then we certainly cannot trust you. That would be quite counterproductive now, wouldn’t it be?”

Hanzo scrutinizes him with suspicion, before putting the device away. Sanjay smiles at him. “Now then, I assume you have a lot of thinking to do.”

The door opens, and Vaswani enters once more.

“Would you kindly escort Mr. Shimada out?”

She nods, and Sanjay turns back his gaze towards Hanzo.

“You may keep the folder if you wish. There’s a copy of what your contract with Vishkar would look like should you choose to join us. And please,” he smiles again, shrewd and serpentine despite his friendly tone, “do think about our offer.” He turns to Vaswani, and she stands at attention once again. This time, Hanzo does not bother hiding his sneer. Sanjay tilts his head towards the door, before turning on a holopad and busying himself with reading the information on the screen.

She nods despite the fact that he is no longer paying attention to her, opening the door and waiting for Hanzo to exit, only closing the door after he does and following after him.

* * *

“Here we are,” Vaswani says as they stop in front of the same teleporter they entered through.

Hanzo steps forward, about to go through, but then he remembers something Sanjay said. He does a quarter turn, meeting her gaze through the transparent blue visor she wore.

“What is Vishkar’s goal?”

“To make the world a better place for all of mankind,” she replies automatically, the words falling from her lips easily, sounding as if she has repeated them time and time again.

 “You do not actually believe that,” he states. Even when he was a boy, he remembers seeing men and women clad in white and blue inside the Shimada estate, talking with his father, making deals. People who want to make the world a better place do not sell weapons to the leader of a criminal empire.

Her eyes narrow. “I do. Vishkar _will_ make the world a better place, rid it of chaos.” Her voice is full of conviction, but his sharp eyes see the way she slightly purses her lips afterwards.

Hanzo harrumphs, turning around. “Is that why you make deals with wanted criminals?”

Without waiting for a reply, he steps through the teleporter, and finds himself back in Hanamura.

He hears a soft whirring sound behind him, and when he looks back, the teleporter is gone. He walks outside, absently noting how the bodies were now gone, the whole compound looking as if nothing had happened just a few hours earlier.

A bird’s song reaches his ears, and he becomes distinctly aware of the cool morning air. He looks up and sees a gradient of light purple and blue. Dawn. He has to leave soon.

He absentmindedly places a hand on one of his pouches, the one where he placed both the device and the documents Sanjay gave him. He tiredly closes his eyes.

He had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

“Our guest?”

“Has been escorted back without any incident,” Satya reports dutifully, back straight.

Sanjay nods. “Good. Anything else? I can tell you have something on your mind.”

“The other agents back in Hanamura…” The concern in her voice is subtle, but it is theres.

“Are being taken care of, Satya. The injured agents have already been sent here for treatment. As for the others,” he sighs sadly, before continuing in a softer voice, “I’ve sent a team to gather their bodies so they could have a proper burial. Other agents are informing their next of kin as we speak.”

“I see…”

“There is nothing else we could do for them now. Now go rest, Satya. You have another mission tomorrow. You’re dismissed.” He returns his attention to the folder in front of him. But when she doesn’t leave, he looks up again with a furrowed brow. “Is something wrong?”

Satya purses her lips. “Hanzo Shimada is a wanted man. We have plenty of more than capable agents deployed all around the world, some of which he just murdered tonight. Why do you so desperately want him on our side?”

“Would you rather fight against him? While I am confident in your abilities, as well as in the abilities of our other agents, Hanzo Shimada has a, shall we say… _unique_ skill set. It would be better to be fighting with him than against him. He has, as you said, killed some of our top agents by himself. It’s for the greater good, Satya.”

“He killed his _brother_.”

“And he feels guilty about it,” Sanjay leans forward, arms crossed on his desk. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have followed you here in the first place. Remember, Satya. Everything Vishkar does is for a better world.”

She stays silent, and Sanjay sighs. His voice was softer when he spoke next. “Go get some rest. I expect you to be in top form for your mission tomorrow. Leave the worrying to me, alright?”

She purses her lips then nods, turning around to leave the room. When she’s by the doorway, Sanjay looks up as if he just remembered something.

“Oh, and Satya?”

She looks over her shoulder, hand already on the doorknob. Sanjay smiles at her.

“Good work.”

She nods slowly in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Sanjay.” With that, she leaves.

A sigh leaves Sanjay’s mouth as soon as the door closes, and he leans back against his chair. She is having doubts, that much he could tell. He’d have to do something about that.

His eyes fall on the document in front of him, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Faking the autopsy report had been easy. Not that he really faked its contents. All he did was change the heading and the format, make it _look_ like an autopsy report.

Well, that and remove certain parts of the report. Parts that were… interesting, to say the least. He glances down at the original document, written in a neat cursive script.

_Unknown substance found in the patient’s bloodstream. Manner in which substance was introduced to the bloodstream is still unknown, yet it is suspected that the substance was somehow quickly absorbed through the skin. Scientists have gathered enough of the substance to test on lab mice, who after taking a certain dosage, died due to myocardial infarction. Experiments are still being done to determine what the substance is made of and what other…_

Sanjay hums thoughtfully, recounting the various reports he read about the Shimada Clan. A shrewd smile takes over his face.

“Dragons, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Google for all the medical terms and telling me the various ways one can die in a swordfight! Also, changed the summary just a little bit. Sorry for the long wait.
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter :3

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration for this fic comes from this tumblr post: http://wakairyuu.tumblr.com/post/149098665274/so-i-met-this-symmetra-on-ptr-in-the-brawl-and-i


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